


ye who enter here

by nebulera



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ficlets, M/M, Non-Chronological
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23739577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulera/pseuds/nebulera
Summary: Same origins. Different destination.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul
Comments: 32
Kudos: 114





	1. (anger)

A millennium ago, the Sith and Jedi battled in a fiery culmination of light and dark that determined the hand of power for ages to come. The Sith were declared extinct, the Jedi victors, and came to be keepers of the peace to a new galactic republic, built upon the crumblings of its predecessor. What little remained of the Sith wouldn't be enough to overthrow the Order. They remained in the shadows, letting their passion fuel their body, hate flowing through their blood. For a millennium, they trained, sat back, and watched.

Their patience would not be enough. Now, deep in the heart of Naboo, the Sith and Jedi came together once more in a blaze of heat igniting off four blades: green, blue, and red. Darth Maul grips his saber staff with a muted fury, fighting against a Jedi Master and his ingenuous Padawan. The Sith had killed Jedi before, but it would never amount to _this,_ to defeat one in the midst of combat. He’s suffered to get here, he’s waited patiently to fulfill the wishes of the Sith and enact his revenge.

Qui-Gon Jinn did not die without honor.

Darth Maul and Obi-Wan’s battle from this day forth would be etched into them like the quaint markings upon the Sith’s red skin. The quick strokes of their sabers and the sparks igniting from their clash are beautiful. Red and blue came together like old friends. Yellow determination met the blue eyes and snarl of a pained, impatient Jedi.

Maul will always remember the perfection of his first and only battle with the Padawan turned Master. He remembers how the Jedi fought, more than anything, like a Sith, his potent anger radiating off of him through his saber and mingling with Maul’s own passionate strikes. Upon reaching the end, he didn't know if the white-hot anger emanating in the room was the Jedi's or his own.

They don’t love each other yet. That time has yet to come. For now, they dance. In perhaps one of the only times, their mutual anger meets head-on in a burning synchrony, one they will never forget, nor ever face again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> acting prologue. everything after this won't be always be chronological.
> 
> based on [this prompt list](https://cairai.tumblr.com/post/159471621571/one-word-prompts)
> 
> yay or nay


	2. (night)

Once evening settles, Obi-Wan blinks himself out of his meditative trance. He quickly eyes across the main room of their temporary abode and finds his zabrak sitting with closed eyes, still deep in his own meditation. A brief glance at Maul’s impression confirms Obi-Wan’s inner question if the other man is all right, and he is not, despite his utterly blank mind.

Their musings are both different and alike enough that there is an undisturbing balance between them when they undergo their forms at the same time. Sometimes, their signatures meet and it is a calming unity, and others it is better for the both of them to stray away from one another. Maul’s mind will more often than not edge towards a familiar mellow that can’t help Obi-Wan, and in a mutual effort, they shut each other out.

It happened tonight. They remained in their respective trances but their paths did not cross.

Obi-Wan pulls himself to his feet and slowly makes his way over. Their small motel is dim with most light dispersing through windows and lighting up Maul’s face in brief glimmering patterns. He is seated on the couch, head down, eyes closed. Obi-Wan would have let him be, but his brow is slightly stressed and Obi-Wan’s fingers twitch in response.

He stands behind the concentrated Maul and after a few moments of easing his own mind into quiet submission, gently brings his hands to his shoulders. They are tense beneath his touch. Obi-Wan lightly moves them up and down his shoulders until he feels taut muscle go soft and relax back into Obi-Wan’s hands.

Many times he’s brought Maul out of a never ending trance, always slow and gentle so as not to disturb him. He’d made the mistake of being too rough before when Maul was stressed, effectively making exiting his meditation worse. It took time to figure out a method to relieve him, and it was no easy feat. Those first few years imprisoned at the temple, even Obi-Wan’s mere presence would disturb his concentration.

Such is not the case anymore. Maul breathes out quietly and lets Obi-Wan touch him so tenderly with a grace he has felt so few times in his life.

“All right, my dear?” Obi-Wan says. He can’t see Maul’s face, but he can feel whatever stress he underwent leave his form, albeit slowly.

Maul hums in reply and nothing more. Obi-Wan sometimes can’t help the part of him that wants to insist for a real answer so he could help more rather than sit back idly. When he acts more like an adult should, he will resist it, simply because Maul is not a weak individual. There are things in Obi-Wan’s life that he needs no assistance other than himself, and it is no different for Maul. He isn’t sure what is disturbing his love, but antagonizing Maul with pestering often solves nothing.

Still, Obi-Wan doesn’t want his concerns for the zabrak to go unnoticed. He swipes his thumb across the nape of Maul’s neck in a light caress that more often than not relaxes him to sleep. 

“If you’re sure,” Obi-Wan says.

Maul reaches up to grip one of his hands and turns his head to finally look at Obi-Wan. “Bed?”

This is their last night together before Obi-Wan deploys tomorrow. Obi-Wan would have been more inclined to sit by him on the couch for another hour or so to just be in his presence longer, to talk, to watch a show on the HoloNet, or to stay silent. But Maul’s question was phrased like a request, and he is looking up at him with thin, weary eyes. Obi-Wan could still feel the stress rolling off of him in descending waves, and now he would feel more secure with Maul settled into him in the peace of sleep more than anything else. 

“Of course,” Obi-Wan says.

He holds onto Maul’s hand into the bathroom where they get ready. Stepping into the small bedroom, they discard their clothes. Obi-Wan folds his robes and places them in the drawer beside their bed before doing the same for Maul. 

He gently takes Maul by the shoulders and leans in to press a small kiss to the tip of his nose, then his lips. Maul kisses back immediately, grips Obi-Wan’s bare elbows. He pulls Obi-Wan into a hug, and then they are settling against each other under the sheets.

It’s one of those nights. Without word or question, Obi-Wan takes Maul up into his arms as they lay side-by-side, Maul’s back to Obi-Wan’s front, his head positioned in a way that won’t be an issue with his horns.

“What time are you shipping off tomorrow?” Maul asks after some moments of silence.

“0700, Saleucami,” Obi-Wan answers. “I may be gone when you wake.”

Maul shakes his head. “Wake me when you leave. I’ll see you off.”

Obi-Wan never desires to pry Maul from his sleep, especially not after how stressed he’d been tonight, but he desires even less to let him down. He nods against Maul’s neck. As always, there is the unspoken rule with Maul. Wherever Obi-Wan goes, Maul will not be too far behind.

Sleep pulls Maul under rather quickly, and he shifts from being pressed against Obi-Wan’s chest onto his own front, one arm settling under a pillow with his face pressed into it, his back exposed to cold air. Obi-Wan does not go to sleep immediately. He stays balanced up on one elbow to look down over the peaceful zabrak. In feather-light touches, he brings his fingertips over the markings on Maul’s back. In the dark, with only the neon lights of Coruscant peering through the window in small bursts of color over red and black, Obi-Wan traces over the memorized markings, his own personal method of falling asleep.

He almost doesn’t recall when Maul briefly wakes. “Sleep, Kenobi.” A demand void of any real harshness.

Obi-Wan chuckles, curls over Maul’s back, one hand reaching up to slide a thumb across the back of his neck. Maul is asleep almost instantly. Obi-Wan soon follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay or nay


	3. (weapon)

It has been so long since he's felt the hilt of a lightsaber in the creases of his palm. The feel of his first saber staff lingered in his touch for years, as well as his instinctual movements when the Force darkened around him. Many times he’d reached at his hip for the pressure that was no longer there, similar to the phantom of his lower half that has rotted amongst garbage many systems away. Doubtless his old saber is suffering a similar fate.

Now, he turns over a new, lightweight saber staff in his hands, concocted from sleek metal and his former knowledge of synthetic crystals buried in the memories of his training. Upon holding the finished product, part of him thinks of his old master holding his saber for the first time, hovering over him with dark eyes and a sneer with his fingers between Maul’s horns. Maul shakes and pushes the thought away.

“May I hold it?” Obi-Wan asks at their usual meeting place. The streets of Coruscant moved violently above them but fall on deaf ears. The half-empty building rented out to small practices allowed them privacy on the more vacant floors closer to the roof, where sometimes they’d sit atop of instead, shoulder to shoulder to watch the violet sky. For now, they stand together, hoods resting against their backs as they let the cool breeze embrace them.

Maul hesitates for only a moment before nodding and offering it over.

Obi-Wan holds it like a gem, staring at the long, black hilt intently while he moves his fingers over the dark ridges. His face reveals a slow admiration of Maul’s recent work and he thumbs at one of the two activators, eyeing up at Maul in a silent request. Maul crosses his arms and nods again.

The glowing beam erupts in their ears and shines bright between them. The yellow bounces off of Obi-Wan’s blue eyes where Maul sees pure fascination flourish. The saber itself fits so well in Obi-Wan’s hands, doubtless he would excel upon using it, his angelic movements coming as second nature to him. One would assume at first glance of the Jedi’s earnest posture hidden beneath layers of robe, his unwavering gaze from the golden blade bleeding like sunlight in the darkness between them, that the lightsaber wholly belongs to him.

Upon second glance, it’s apparent from Obi-Wan’s uncertainty at where to place his other hand on the long hilt that the saber is still alien to the Jedi. Despite this, his grip remains careful and firm. His longing looks at the rare color aren’t out of a possessive desire to keep, but an overwhelming protectiveness of the saber staff that Maul built, that he now holds, that signifies his life. 

Obi-Wan steps back and puts more space between them. With subtle wrist movements, the blade swirls, and despite the extended hilt, manages to effortlessly twist it in his fingers.

“You’re playing with it,” Maul deadpans.

“A little,” Obi-Wan says with a sideways glance and a smirk. “I like the color. It suits your eyes.”

Before they part, Obi-Wan hands the saber staff back over, curling Maul’s fingers around it and sliding his own over Maul’s wrists. An unfiltered wave of trust and adoration flows around them and through the Force and they hold each other in a wordless embrace.

Maul walks away that night with the lightsaber attached at his hip, Obi-Wan’s touch a lingering phantom around the hilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💛
> 
> yay or nay


	4. (food)

Most days, Maul wouldn’t pay any attention to the sound of the Temple guards entering and setting his food tray down. Sometimes he wouldn’t even notice them. He’d let the food sit for hours before he’d allow himself to push towards it. It’d be cold upon his tongue or stale with every bite, but it made no difference to him.

The ray shield descends, but the rhythm is different. Someone isn’t slowly and robotically allowing themselves in; this one is shuffling inside with sure steps and tender hands. Maul knows the difference very well. Two minds connect before eyes can register and Maul feels it’s Kenobi before he turns from the wall of his cell.

In his hands, he is carrying Maul’s food tray, along with his own, only something is different. The smell is… different. It permeates the room and throws what little relaxation he’s created for himself off-balance and he allows himself a few seconds to be annoyed that he was more focused on the food rather than the Jedi who’s invited himself in.

The first time he’d done this had been a handful of months after his capture.

“Get out of here,” Maul had grumbled.

Obi-Wan acted as if he hadn’t heard anything. “I’m going to take my lunch in here with you, if you don’t mind—“

“I do mind.”

“—the mess was too loud for my liking. For a bunch of meditative peacekeepers, they can be very rambunctious.

Maul had rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall with zero will to fight, letting his food sit. He’d obviously intercepted the guards on their way to feed him. He would wait for Obi-Wan to leave before he eats. If he eats.

Now, the Jedi seems not apt to conversation. He sits on the opposite wall from Maul, quietly eating away at the small bowl in his lap. Something is clearly wrong. The Jedi is frowning, his head bowed. Maul doesn’t inquire him, but he notices it nonetheless. Maul doesn’t realize until later how bothered he is at being able to see right through Obi-Wan. He knows very well it’s the same for him. 

Obi-Wan takes his meal in silence, allowing a glance every now and then to Maul. Maul can’t help the glances back, though he tries to block out the Jedi’s mind, his breathing, the smell of vibrant food shifting the balance of the atmosphere Maul molded for himself. Maul pointedly doesn’t eat his own meal right away and lets it sit, waiting for Obi-Wan’s departure.

Obi-Wan will usually visit with a joint-lunch, bringing himself something and setting a tray down for Maul that had whatever prison food had been concocted for him. Obi-Wan would invite himself into non-existent conversations, talking Maul’s ear off. Maul would reply on occasion, and then he’d snap his mouth shut for the rest of Obi-Wan’s stay.

Eventually, the Jedi leaves without imploring Maul to eat. Even with him gone, the smell remains. Maul still doesn’t touch the meal.

During the first few months, Maul thought about, on multiple occasions, how timely and difficult it would be to free himself by simply not eating any longer. Every time he did, he came back to himself with faulty logistics that contain both the Temple healers and a certain pestering Jedi. He doesn’t think so much about escape anymore, especially not of that magnitude.

An hour or two passes of Maul doing his exercises, physical and mental. He wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and allows himself rest. 

When he finally turns to his meal, he realizes it is not what is usually prepared for him. On the tray is clearly a bowl wrapped in foil and a small mug of tea. He was always given water, never graced with any sort of tea or juice. He’s not had something like this since  _ before _ . Maul takes a seat on his cot and places the tray on his lap. He reaches for the mug. It’s gone cold when he brings it to his lips, but it is undoubtedly sweet.

Upon unwrapping the bowl, he sees it is the same pasta Kenobi was eating earlier. He vaguely recalls the man saying how he will sometimes cook for himself and his padawan rather than being subject to cafeteria food. Maul never paid any mind to it, but now it is clear that Kenobi had brought Maul something he had made personally. The foil had been to preserve its heat because the Jedi knows Maul will not immediately eat in front of him. His fingers lightly tremble against the warm ceramic.

For a while he just stares at it. He’s unable to comprehend what this means, if the Jedi had meant for it to mean anything at all. Several moments pass and then Maul is cringing at himself. It’s just food, meant to supply his energy, nothing more. As long as it is edible, taste is secondary. But it’s undeniable when he takes his first bite that it tastes different than he’s used to. Herbs hidden in creamy pasta take hold of him and for once in his life what he is eating tastes  _ good.  _ It’s a nice distraction and Maul joys himself with another bite.

It’s gone almost instantly. Maul freezes and cowers in on himself, shaking from the memory of hard, yellow eyes judging beneath a dark cloak in the shadows. Then all at once, he comes back to himself. He’d survived off of bugs trapped in dirt and the bark of trees. It’d been disgusting; he suffered splinters and sores in his mouth, but he endured. This is nothing. This means nothing. He has none to gain from something made by Kenobi. Taking pleasure in food does not give him strength, and he wouldn’t let the Jedi weaken him.

Disgust builds in him, his lips forming a sneer. He growls and flings the tray across his cell. The ceramic shatters into pieces as everything collapses to the floor in a mess. 

It seems pointless now, as his outburst did nothing for the smell that had distracted him in the first place. Maul exhales and goes to meditate, preparing for what he should when Kenobi undoubtedly returns the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay or nay


	5. (crave)

The _Midway_ didn’t look like much on the outside. Though it lacks wear, being a relatively new ship, it also lacks color. Going inside, at first glance, it’s the same appearance-wise, lacking vibrant colors to give it something eye popping. Aesthetics are no matter to Maul nor Obi-Wan, so this is not a hindrance. Taken one-dimensionally, the ship is just a ship.

For Obi-Wan, there is always more. Stepping inside, he notices immediately the lingering smell of candles in dark, hidden corners. Obi-Wan has brought them back from Shili and given them to Maul. He had no use for them in his room at the Temple, and now Maul had yet to toss them. Despite being not very picturesque, being here brings him unadulterated joy that he demonstrates with his words and gentle fingers across vivid tattoos. Tucked away from the cockpit in a corner room is their now-bedroom. The greatest thing about this ship’s existence in their life is they’re no longer whisking away to hotels on Coruscant or brief periods off-world when Obi-Wan and his troops were given breaks. In the corner lies a broad enough bed for the two of them, almost never made, and always smelling of crimson with weary lines and sharp edges. It’s Maul’s ship, but it is their home. For now.

Obi-Wan is beside himself tonight, and finds it troubling him more than usual. He was not due for several days, so nothing was hurried between them this evening. They relaxed together for a short time, and then Maul requested Obi-Wan lay on his stomach. Understanding, he nodded and did so and let Maul’s fingers work delicately into his muscles, coaxing his skin and brushing thumbs down his spine. They worked out the stress until Obi-Wan’s eyelids fluttered shut and submitted to the poetry of Maul’s hands. Eventually, the massaging gentled into simple touches. Maul’s fingers traced over his back, his biceps. It was not the gentleness that shocked Obi-Wan, but the length of time warm fingers traced his lines and cracks, his scars and impurities.

That lasted until Maul’s own weariness blurred with Obi-Wan’s and he removed his shirt and pulled the Jedi against his chest. Cybernetics pressed into the back of his knees and settled. Sleep quickly came over him.

Not for Obi-Wan. Several minutes pass and he can no longer deny the tenseness in his legs, nor how worked up he is. It didn’t help that Maul kissed his neck lightly before he crashed, or that Maul is now holding him so closely against his smooth, warm body. He tries to will it away by falling asleep, but, to his torture, it persists, and his cheeks redden in the dark cabin bunk.

He tries to slip out of Maul’s hold to go to the bathroom without him noticing but he senses the Zabrak behind him awaken, slightly confused.

Stepping into the shower, he lets the hot water knead into his skin. He looks down at his problem and takes hold of himself, though only briefly. He gives himself that much relief before letting the shower distract him from it.

Part of him is embarrassed and the other can’t help his shame. There is nothing wrong with what his body feels, but sometimes his physicality will betray him and blur into what he and Maul are. It’s not that he isn’t attracted to Maul, it’s rather the opposite. He’s envisioned quite a bit what it would be like to be with him, and most times that would do the trick for when Obi-Wan was alone. Every time, he’d feel ill with himself in some capacity. It’s simply undeniable that Maul was not physically experiencing what Obi-Wan was and that is due to the harm he’d brought Maul all those years ago, since remembered and forgiven. Though, Obi-Wan has yet to forgive himself.

Simply put, it isn’t easy not being able to be with someone he wants. It wouldn’t be impossible for them, but Obi-Wan can’t deny he’d feel Maul would be sacrificing for something so trivial that Obi-Wan could take care of on his own. So, it never came up for discussion. Alluded to sometimes. Sometimes they’d kiss and it wouldn’t end for hours. It’d become deep and harsh, wet and heavy, but it would eventually subside. Obi-Wan never crossed that barrier.

After some patience, his problem goes away. He dries himself and pulls on his shorts and goes to return to bed.

Laying on his side with his eyes still open, lay Maul waiting for Obi-Wan to return. He’s staring off at nothing with an unreadable look in his eyes. He opens himself up to Obi-Wan who returns to his spot against Maul’s front, his arm bracketed by the Zabrak’s. He closes his eyes and hopes to sleep soon.

A minute passes, and then, so quietly, like it isn’t for Obi-Wan, “Is it for what I am.”

Obi-Wan blinks his eyes open and looks back at Maul, confused. “What did you say?”

Vulnerable gold eyes stare back at him. A blink and it’s gone. “Forget it.” Maul holds him close, but Obi-Wan can feel the miles hanging between them.

“Maul—“

“Obi-Wan,” Maul growls, and Obi-Wan shuts his mouth in compliance. Tonight is not good for this, so Obi-Wan presses back against Maul and lets it be. The distance leaves and he feels Maul surround him effortlessly, though he is still troubled by something Obi-Wan doesn’t understand.

Another day, he thinks. He’ll ask another day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not one to write smut, but I might make an exception soon.
> 
> yay or nay


	6. (mistake)

“Here,” Obi-Wan says.

Maul ducks his head to see what is being offered to him. In his hands, he’s holding out a small basket. Inside, Maul finds a recently warmed bread loaf alongside a wrapped bowl of freshly cut fruit. There is a thermos, likely containing tea if Obi-Wan is concerned. And there’s only one of each meaning this is not really a picnic for two. He can’t explain the bursts of warmth in his chest, even after all these years. Jedi tricks, or just Obi-Wan’s altruism.

“I’m not starving, Kenobi,” he says, knowing Obi-Wan can hear his unsaid gratitude.

“I know that,” Obi-Wan affirms. “Though, it’s been a while since you’ve had something from yours truly. I’m sure you’ve been missing it greatly.”

“You would think that.” Maul tears a piece from the bread and offers it over to Kenobi.

“No, thank you, I’ve eaten already.”

The rooftop they’re sitting on is dark, with only the lights of the heights and transports bouncing off their faded forms. They blend expertly, though there’s enough light for them to make each other out. Obi-Wan sat next to him since giving him the basket, their knees touching. It feels like when something bounces off your leg when it’s asleep, fuzzy and muffled, but it’s contact all the same.

“As you wish,” Maul says and takes a bite himself. Even something as basic as bread brushing his taste buds brings him that pleasant distraction he’s been seeking since his last meeting with the Jedi. He’s not sure if it’s the taste or just the plain fact of where it’s come from, who heated it for him, who’d brought it for him alone. He makes eye contact with the Jedi and smirks. “Better than the basic mess they throw together in the corners.”

“You indulge that junk because?”

“It’s cheap.”

Obi-Wan looks away and nods in understanding. It’s the first Maul has alluded to his financial situation. He’s not living badly, though it is a little poor. He’s saving up for something better, and more mobile.

“My friend, how are you getting by?”

Maul doesn’t know how he feels about this subject. He uncovers the thermos and takes a sip. Unsurprisingly, Kenobi has prepared the tea how he likes it.

“Bounties. I don’t do it often.”

Obi-Wan seems unbothered, though he bites his cheek. Hunting has always been Maul’s proficiency, his old master saw to that. It’s what he’s good at and it scratches his itch.

“Have you had to kill?”

Maul hesitates. No use lying. “Yes.” He takes another sip of tea. It’s sweet against his tongue.

“Maul, you’ve no lightsaber,” Obi-Wan says and he’s mildly surprised this is the Jedi’s response. Though he imagines it’s much easier to subdue his opponents wielding blasters if they’re under the threat of a saber. His body is a weapon but only for so long until he must resort to other measures.

“I will, soon.”

“The sooner, the better,” Obi-Wan says, looking thoughtfully, then contemplative. “I could—“

“No,” Maul cuts off. “I’ll see to it. I imagine you’ve not much time on your hands. You always seem to be juggling with Skywalker.”

“Very considerate.” Obi-Wan smiles. Maul takes a bite of fruit to stall his face trying to match it. “However, Anakin is nearly seventeen and is already going on missions without me.”

“Not you, but other Jedi, I presume.”

“Well, of course. He’s rebellious when I’m around, imagine the havoc he’d wreak alone.”

Maul has no opinion on the Skywalker boy, but he’s always ready to listen to Obi-Wan’s next spiel about how well he’s doing, how strong he’s becoming, and how he’s defiant and respectful all the same. He’s a pain but Obi-Wan doesn’t know what he’d do without him. 

“I swear he’s making me grey early.”

Maul smirks. “I can already see them,” he says, and, like he’s been possessed, reaches up and brushes his fingers against those bright strands.

Obi-Wan’s thin smile bursts and he reaches up to grasp Maul’s hand, looking fondly at him. “Zabrak vision.”

Touch is not out of their jurisdiction, hasn’t been for some time. In fact, he’s come to expect it with Kenobi. The hair brush, though, that was not normal, despite Obi-Wan seemingly being fine with it. Maul’s not even sure why he did it. Usually, it’s Obi-Wan initiating this sort of thing, and he never pays it any mind. All at once, Maul realizes just how intimate that gesture was, his fingers so close to the Jedi’s temple, nearly brushing his skin.  _ Why, _ he did it, indeed. He only hopes Obi-Wan ignores it. Maul blinks himself out of thought to look at him.

Obi-Wan is staring at him.

Staring may be the wrong word. He’s looking at him a way Maul is not familiar with, his brow ever so slightly tilted in a way that brings the gentleness out in his eyes. All restraint has gone from his face and he looks so young in this light. Maul has not seen this side of him very often, void of snark and utterly honest.

Maul can only stare back at him. His hand is still in Obi-Wan’s grasp.

Maul feels when the Force shifts around Obi-Wan, letting go, lowering all shields, and just  _ being.  _ He feels it like a wave crashing down on him, but all he can do is look at him and wait for what comes next.

He doesn’t understand, and refuses to, when Obi-Wan’s eyes break away from his and drop to his lips. Then, Obi-Wan leans in and Maul goes completely still. Everything is screaming at him to either rip his hand away, or grip it tighter; to shove the Jedi back, or to pull him in closer. Everything is confusing him and his head aches as he tries to block out any invading forces in his mind. The haunting taunts of his master wash over him and he can’t breathe.  _ Jedi. Jedi. Jedi. Revenge, we will have revenge, they will be no match for you, let them make the first move, you are fear, you are hunter, you are filth, you are nothing.  _

When Obi-Wan is inches from his lips he turns his head and looks away. Obi-Wan brushes his cheek with the ghost of a touch and Maul begins to tremble. His eyes are wide open and glazed over, but he refuses to look at Obi-Wan.

The Force around the Jedi turns harsh and painful. He feels the knife to Obi-Wan’s gut as sharply as if it were his own. It darkens and pleads for mercy.

“Forgive me,” Obi-Wan whispers. 

Maul says nothing. He forgot he stopped breathing so he inhales sharply and closes his eyes. He blocks Kenobi from his mind and reasserts himself within his own. Pained spikes in his chest fade away and confusion settles.

This is something he cannot do. Obi-Wan is not his. They are and always have been much too divided. He’s learned, since he was very young, of fate and her victims. He was a tool for a plot that hasn’t come to fruition, but he was not without a purpose. The Jedi had his own, one that he would see through to, but now he won’t indulge this. They were simply on opposite paths. Hatred fueled him for most of his life, but he’s unsure now of what fills his heart.

He opens his eyes and forces himself to look at Obi-Wan’s tortured expression. A brief glance down shows Obi-Wan is still holding his hand. He slides his hand away, leaving his fingers grasping at air.

“Forget it, Kenobi,” he says, not harshly but pointed as usual. Like nothing happened.

He finds himself unable to continue looking at the Jedi any longer. He can’t be around him either. He breaks away their touching knees and stands.

He glances one more time at Obi-Wan, who’s now staring at his hands. 

“Stick with Skywalker,” Maul says. “You need him.”

Obi-Wan does not look at him. “As you wish.”

Something crumples in Maul’s chest. Without another word, he turns and leaves.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay or nay


	7. (winter)

Obi-Wan tucks his fingers further into his robes. The cold brushes off his face, though it’s bearable. Arms crossed over his chest, he seeks out his commander and finds him standing under the command tent with a tablet and a pen, likely scrolling through some last minute data, or incoming transmissions.

“Any word, Cody?” Obi-Wan says, sparking the commander out of his focused trance. He’s greeted with attentive, but weary eyes. His helmet rests on the table before him.

“Nothing since the last transmission, General,” Cody says. 

Obi-Wan figured. “All right.” Rescue and transport is currently underway, though spending the night on this planet seems imminent. He nods. “Get some rest, Commander,” Obi-Wan says, reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder.

Cody puts the datapad down and reaches with his opposite hand to clap against Obi-Wan’s vambrace. “You too, sir,” he says, grabbing his helmet and stalking towards the many tents the 212th set up for the night. 

Obi-Wan’s gaze follows his commander out, and at the same time, he scans around the rocky grounds, searching. Yellow fading into a pale pink spreads across the grounds, flooding his vision as the sun descends between the flowing tree leaves. Many of his troopers are bunking together, sitting outside their tents and cleaning the blasters, or beginning to head inside and call it a night. Obi-Wan’s vision searches for a glimpse of red, but finds nothing.

“Oh, Cody?” He beckons his commander before he’s gone too far.

He turns towards Obi-Wan, eyes at full attention. “Yes, sir.”

“Have you seen our friend?” 

Cody’s gaze turns to the side and his lips shape a subtle, knowing smile, before looking back at Obi-Wan. “He went into the forest—due east.” Cody motions with his arm.

Obi-Wan sets his sight on the path briefly. He’s likely gone back to his ship, to meditate or rest, Obi-Wan is not sure. Obi-Wan regards his commander once more. “Thank you, Cody.”

Years ago, Cody may have saluted. Now, he gives Obi-Wan one last firm nod before turning and leaving.

Obi-Wan steps through the dense forest, searching for only a short while until the thickness thins out and what remaining daylight begins to show itself more through the branches. He emerges at a cliff that hangs high above a green valley. The sun creeps around the imposing figure at the center of it all.

Obi-Wan is grateful for his cloak at this moment. The breeze hits him at full speed and makes his teeth shiver in response. It would only get colder as the night progresses. Yet, there Maul stood. He no longer wore his robes. In fact, he is not wearing anything above the waist, taking the breezes against his bare form stoically. 

He’s aware of Maul’s relationship with pain, how it makes him concentrate. Maul did not appear to be in a trance, however. And he is aware of Obi-Wan’s presence despite lack of acknowledgment.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. He steps up to Maul. He grabs at the edges of his robes and wraps them and his arms around Maul. “No need to be cold, my dear.”

Maul, consciously or not, leans back into him. He smiles at him. “I’m fine.”

“I’m sure you are,” Obi-Wan expresses with an exhale, tucking his head over Maul’s shoulder so not to poke himself on his horns. He kisses his neck. “Thank you for your help today.” Maul had been there to pull Obi-Wan and his men from the crash. There were no substantial injuries except for a few bruises and fractures. Obi-Wan has exhausted himself with the Force to land them gently on the ground; he’d nearly fainted. They’d lost no men. However, their transport was shot and they simply had to sit back and wait for incoming transport.

“Seems I’m always pulling you out of the fire, Kenobi,” Maul says. “You’re going to give the commander a heart attack one day.”

“So long as he doesn’t give me one first.”

Maul shakes his head. “You ought to be more careful.” 

As per usual, Obi-Wan regards this but does not promise anything. He’s heard it before, mostly from the same three people. He can’t say he blames them; he always finds himself uttering similar words to them

They stand there quietly, Obi-Wan shielding Maul from the cold. With Maul’s warm body pressed against his like this, sleep becomes one of his top priorities.

Obi-Wan breaks the silence. “Do you plan to leave, soon?” 

“No,” Maul says, quietly. Then, “I could whisk you away, Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan smiles against his skin. They both know he’s joking; Obi-Wan wouldn't abandon his men.

“Come back with me?” Obi-Wan offers with feather-light kisses against Maul’s shoulder. A little risky, though he isn’t worried about the 212th. Certain masters and a former-Padawan would not be pleased to arrive and see Obi-Wan with a certain ex-sith. Maul knows this, and would likely disappear before daybreak. Obi-Wan doesn’t much care. He wants nothing less than to hold Maul against his weary body and dream soundly.

The sun is almost gone, slowly disappearing beneath the horizon. The sky begins to fade into dark blue, and with it, a cold breeze passes over them. Tucked into each other, however, they’re as safe as they can be.

Maul chuckles. “If you keep me warm.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay or nay


	8. (dream)

Obi-Wan stands with his back to Maul looking over one of the Temple’s small gardens. The sun is out over their heads, shining bright across the green breathing life and giving away. The wind blows across the bushes, ruffling with the flowers; there are no startling sounds. Obi-Wan looks surrounded by beauty; mixed colors complementing the neutrality of his robes, He fits in so naturally; it’s a gorgeous sight to behold.

Maul’s steps closer to bring his hand to his shoulder in a soft greeting. Obi-Wan’s head turns slightly and he greets Maul with a smile. The sun slants across his face and his eyes gleam.

There are no Temple guards on Maul’s heel. In fact, there seems to be no one around at all.

“I’m always losing you,” Maul says, softly.

“I thought you were right behind me,” Obi-Wan says, though Maul can’t recall being with Obi-Wan before, nor losing or following him.. A strange second passes. Maul takes in the sight of the Jedi. Gone is his beard. His hair is cropped short, as well. Suddenly, Maul realizes he is not looking at his Obi-Wan, but an old embodied memory before him. Theed floods his vision in bright, red flashes, dual anger flooding the room, red clashing with blue. He doesn’t recall ever seeing Obi-Wan smile at him, yet here he is, looking upon him as if Theed were yesterday.

Looking down at himself, he’s clad in his sith robes, though strangely he feels his cybernetics rather than flesh and blood. His old saber staff is attached at his hip. What a strange dream.

“My dear,” Obi-Wan says. He reaches out to take his hand. “I sense you’re troubled.”

He doesn’t feel the contact. Every second that passes, he feels himself receding further and further away into reality.

“It’s so strange to not feel your touch. I’m burdened every day and night that I’m not by your side.” The words leave Maul’s mouth with no regard. He notices the thin braid trailing from the back of Obi-Wan’s head down over his chest. He thinks distantly of the Padawan he’d fought, how that was all the past and done away with. He now knows Obi-Wan to be a Master that he confides in. Despite this, with his free hand, he reaches up to touch the braid . He feels around it with his fingers. “You mean more to me than you know.”

Obi-Wan looks at him no differently, like he hadn’t heard Maul’s words. He’s fading further and further away and Maul begs internally to be rid of his memories and be allowed time he never had.

“You’re so beautiful,” Obi-Wan says, and Maul wakes up.

Obi-Wan is behind him.

Maul is on his front, staring across nothing in the dark room. He feels his relaxed breath across his shoulder; there’s an arm thrown across his back. Obi-Wan’s bare form is pressed against him, warmth still kindling between them. 

Maul takes it all in. A strange dream, indeed.

Unforgettable, though, seeing Obi-Wan so young and untouched. 

Despite his early acknowledgement that what he was seeing wasn’t real, he can’t ignore the hold it took. Unexpectedly, the feeling of Obi-Wan against him isn’t enough. He grips the sheets in an effort to ignore and stifle his trembling. He fears the worst: that he’s in another dream, or that if he turns around, Obi-Wan will not be there.

He doesn’t acknowledge his vision blurring, nor the wetness trailing across his cheeks.

He feels in his mind before he physically feels Obi-Wan wake. The other man shifts only slightly, laying for minutes that pass in silence. He’s unsure if it is his thoughts that ripped Obi-Wan from sleep, or if Obi-Wan knew him to be awake, as well. Maul stays still and silent, not daring to look.

He feels Obi-Wan bring a finger to Maul’s back. He delicately trails across a pattern Maul knows to be there. Soon, his palm rests completely against his back and runs up between his shoulders, over his neck. Obi-Wan’s fingers graze his ear and cheek. Then, he’s kissing Maul’s shoulder. He feels the scratch of a beard.

“You’re so beautiful,” Obi-Wan whispers.

Maul stops breathing and the universe corrects itself. Without an ounce of fear, he turns over.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay or nay


	9. (pain)

Obi-Wan realizes, albeit too late, how obvious he’s being. The fighting has slowed to a halt, though only temporarily. Obi-Wan is dirty with grime, battle-worn. Behind the barricades, a few of his troops and the 501st alike pile around him and Cody as they discuss further strategy. The men are listening intently, their faces hidden behind their helmets, to which Obi-Wan is grateful. He imagines he wouldn’t be able to continue if he saw their reactions to the half-asleep Zabrak in Obi-Wan’s lap.

“They’ll be coming back stronger,” Obi-Wan says. “Rest, but be prepared.”

Cody beckons them off and squats by the two of them. His gaze is similarly hidden by his visor.

“I have to get him away, quickly,” Obi-Wan forces out. It’s then that Maul sucks in a sharp breath. His wounds were healing with the help of the quick bacta spray, but the tightness in his brow and the way he grits his teeth show physically what Obi-Wan feels: pain, through and through.

Obi-Wan quickly pulls Maul closer, ignoring the horns poking at him. Maul whimpers; part of him is trying to expel the pain while the other relishes in it, allowing it to consume him.

“I—“ Obi-Wan begins, and stops. Without thought or word, he brings his fingertips to Maul’s temples.

He’s only done this so often; he hasn’t mastered it quite like Master Plo or Qui-Gon had, but he tries nonetheless. He feels fire and cold seep into himself as he blocks what pain Maul is feeling, draining it into his own skin. It flows in him like a virus. As he begins to tense, the form against him slowly deflates, a soft sigh leaving Maul’s mouth as his brow unfurls. He’s almost done, he thinks, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. His eyes grow hazy, sweat dampens his hairline, and his body aches.

He feels Cody’s hand shoots out to grip his shoulder. “General.” Obi-Wan’s eyes snap open. Maul falls slump against him and Obi-Wan breathes out heavily. Maul’s pain is gone for the time being, but he’s drained himself in the process.

“I’m all right,” Obi-Wan says, shakily. Perhaps he was foolish; he knows very well the training of the Sith from the first-hand tales of Maul. Pain was not a hindrance, but a tool utilized for strength. To grow frustrated and angry, to hold in until it was ready to be unleashed. Maul is no longer a Sith, but such teachings don’t disappear in a blink. 

It wouldn’t be long before the Seps returned. He’d need to take Maul back to base.

It’s when Obi-Wan is about to try to stand that Anakin walks up wordlessly, his expression going from blank to confused at the sight of Obi-Wan and with Maul in his lap. Obi-Wan curses mentally, regretting just how exposed he is like this. Anakin’s eyes shift into something cold and shielded. Whatever he’d come to say had to be unimportant because he backs away and leaves as quickly as he came.

Obi-Wan looks at Maul’s sleeping form and then to his commander, dreading the argument he’ll no doubt be having with his former Padawan soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay or nay


	10. (dominant)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating change with this one

The room grows dark and heavy when Obi-Wan sinks to his knees before Maul. All at once, everything he’s ever envisioned has come together and fallen into his hands. He looks up at where he’s sitting on the couch, metal knees spread with his hands clenched on his thighs. Their eyes meet and neither of them is sure what to do next; Maul breaks the contact first, blinking and leaning his head back, his gaze firmly on the ceiling.

Obi-Wan’s body grows hot; they’re both fully clothed, and despite having been naked countless times in each other’s vicinity, this feels completely different. They’ve never been this kind of vulnerable with one another. It’s exciting as much as it is terrifying.

Maul is shaking slightly. One read of him and Obi-Wan feels the merciless insecurity wash over him.

Obi-Wan decides to make the first move, leaning in mouth at Maul’s metal knee. The man above him lets out a soft sound.

“I can’t—I need to—“ Maul whispers, breathing hard, and reaches to strip off his shirt. Obi-Wan pulls back and does the same, keeping his eyes on Maul the entire time. He takes off his predominant robes, and then his undershirt, but he keeps his pants on.

The tattoos that adorn Maul’s torso are lines that Obi-Wan has familiarized himself with over the years. The black pigmentation contrasting with Maul’s eyes and red skin brings out the beauty it took Obi-Wan too long to cherish. Maul has never been unattractive to him; even his snarls in their earlier days as adversaries never came across as ugly to Obi-Wan. A little frightening, and a lot frustrating, but nothing Obi-Wan wouldn’t think about. 

He’s thought a lot about what Maul would sound like at his peak, what he’d taste like if he dared to lick a stripe across his skin. Obi-Wan is well-aware of their limitations, as is Maul. Maul couldn’t not feel things, but the sensors of his cybernetics were limited, and release was not possible, physically. Obi-Wan would have been fine with never approaching this more intimate aspect of their relationship, even though he long dreamt of it. Maul, however, similarly longed to feel Obi-Wan in a way they have not engaged in before.

They would learn from each other. They would let themselves have this.

Obi-Wan leans into the space between Maul’s knees more to reach right above Maul’s metal hips and kiss the skin right above it. He drags his lips across those markings, almost desperately. Fingers thread through his hair and grip it.

Obi-Wan looks up at Maul to find him staring down at him with starved eyes. Whatever Obi-Wan had been doing originally, he stops, finding himself ready to let the control fall out of his hands. He softens his gaze, drops his eyelids, and lets his head go limp in Maul’s hand, to which the Zabrak tightens his grip.

“Tell me what to do,” Obi-Wan offers, simply.

Maul’s eyes flare. His mouth falls open contemplatively, as he thinks of what to say, what to do. “Come here, and lean back against me,” he eventually says.

Obi-Wan does. He finds a comfortable position where he’s half on top of Maul’s thigh with his back lined up against Maul’s bare chest. His breath brushes past Obi-Wan’s hair and ear.

One of Maul’s hands reach up to loosely rest at where Obi-Wan’s neck meets his clavicle. The other mindfully traces across Obi-Wan’s torso. 

Obi-Wan’s body grows hotter with every second that passes, every touch. He lets Maul take over, touch him, consume him whole. The hand on his neck is like an anchor and he leans further back to bare his throat more.

Maul has not touched him yet, but Obi-Wan would not push. Though, when his hand ventures down further, he traces the inner line of his thigh and Obi-Wan lets out a small breathy sound. He finds that he is almost ready to beg.

 _Are you,_ he pictures Maul whispering into his skin. Maul’s Force signature is like a beating heart. It’s rapid and wanting. He projects exactly what he wants and how he wants it.

And so does Obi-Wan.

_I’m yours. Do what you will with me._

At that, Maul kisses his neck and bites down.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay or nay


End file.
